Silverlon and Surgery: Our Search for Healing By Julia E. Schopick For ten years, we were lucky and we knew it. My husband Tim was one of the fortunate long-term brain tumor survivors. Although he seemed to suffer all the complications and side effects from his first surgery and subsequent radiation treatment in 1990, he was able to maintain the most important thing: his Self. And we maintained our wonderful marriage in every sense, a full 100% partnership. One of the best things about Tim’s level of survivorship was that, although he was able to work less and less, he could still fully enjoy his two great passions (besides me, of course!): music and reading. In fact, his tumor-forced semi-retirement gave him the opportunity to indulge these passions with no guilt and all pleasure. “Someday,” he’d tell me, “I may not be able to enjoy my passions – so I’ll enjoy them now.” I happily agreed and became the primary breadwinner, working out of our large apartment and taking numerous breaks throughout the day to talk, cuddle with him and listen to his dissertations about music. Like all brain tumor families, we knew our time together might be shortened, so we learned to live in the present. At times, we talked about what might happen in the future. We bargained on possible tumor recurrence, or brain damage as the side effects from his course of whole brain radiation became more and more debilitating. We didn’t know that it would be his irradiated skin that would be the problem, and that when the shoe finally dropped, it would nearly topple us. What happened to Tim can happen easily to so many brain tumor survivors who undergo radiation treatment. I now hope to pass on what I have learned to other brain tumor survivors in hopes that long-term survivors will not be toppled by the complications and side effects and will turn into permanent survivors, with a great quality of life. But first, our story: In October 1990, 41-year-old Tim underwent surgery to remove a huge, grade 3 astrocytoma from his left frontal lobe. About a month later, he underwent whole brain radiation. For the first four years after that, he seemed to suffer from every possible side effect and complication of both the surgery and the radiation. These complications caused him to require some eight or nine additional surgeries over the next four years. From 1990 to the present, there were also several adjustments in his medications, as well as a stroke (another “side effect” of the radiation), infrequent seizures and numerous trips to the hospital. But finally, we thought we had come out on the other side. Then, in January 2000, he started having grand mal seizures that wouldn't quit. He was hospitalized for nearly a month in our local community hospital. Although the MRI at the local hospital turned up “nothing unusual,” we were understandably tense as we waited for the results of a second MRI in April of 2000. Our neurosurgeon, who had performed the 1990 surgery, said there was “something” on the scan. He advised having surgery as soon as possible. But, having lived through all the complications and side effects from the first surgery, we weren’t too keen on the prospect of another. We decided to wait. After 14 months, the doctor was adamant about surgery. The tumor was getting dangerously close to Tim’s motor strip. In the weeks that followed, I talked back and forth with his nurse, who seemed confident that all the necessary pieces were in place – including having a plastic surgeon close Tim up because, years ago, Tim’s skin had had trouble healing. The surgery was performed on June 26, 2001. The surgeon (our primary neurosurgeon’s partner) greeted us confidently at 7:30 AM – and in Tim went. He came out hours later in almost perfect shape. A miracle! I applauded myself for all the organic food and supplements I’d poured into him over the past five years. Tim was released from the hospital after four days – highly unusual for someone with his history. For one month, everything was perfect. No changes at all, neurological or physical. We took long walks, went to the movies and out to dinner. Friends came over and Tim would hold court, playing his beloved classical music for them and interpreting it for his various “audiences.” I was astounded and grateful. We were surely blessed. Then, it happened. The first shoe dropped. We had been trying not to notice a small “spot” on the suture line that seemed slow to heal. The visiting nurses didn’t seem to be overly worried either, so we remained calm. But suddenly, Tim became confused and incontinent – and soon, I knew we were in deep trouble. A trip to the Emergency Room where he’d had surgery a month earlier revealed that air had flooded Tim’s brain. After 10 hours in the ER, they finally sewed up the tiny holes they found in the suture line and put him on several IV antibiotics at once. When there’s air in the brain, we were told, infection can be assumed. We all hoped the wound would heal, and that we’d be “lucky.” We weren’t. Again, about three weeks later, air flooded his brain. They operated again, this time removing his plastic plate and shunt, and put him on yet more antibiotics. After three months he came home. Tim did extremely well for two months and began to walk again with a walker. We even went out for our 16th wedding anniversary, with Tim’s caregiver sitting a few feet away. We were blessed, we thought again. Then, the other shoe dropped. He again became disoriented, and this time he had a fever. Since we had been dissatisfied with the treatment he received in the first hospital, we had found another hospital – and another neurosurgeon. I took Tim to this hospital for another three-plus months of surgeries to try to fix the darned suture line. By now, they were putting in external drains on a regular basis, but nothing worked. Tim’s new neurosurgeon was puzzled and “distraught” about Tim’s situation. Now the dura (the covering of the brain) was leaking. Meanwhile, I was spending hours and hours online, looking for out-of-the-box treatments that the doctors might not have thought of. I prepared a 200-page report on my findings for the doctors to read. I tried to get Tim approved for hyperbaric oxygen, which has been known to do wonders for both radiation necrosis and nonhealing wounds. But the doctor who ran the chamber at this hospital refused. He was afraid Tim was too fragile. I, too, was afraid, because I just knew Tim was dying. And he would have, I think, if I hadn’t been blessed to be interviewing a local internist on behalf of one of my clients. We chatted about personal matters and he asked, “How’s your husband?” I told him. He asked me if I had ever heard of Silverlon. “Silver what?” I inquired. He explained that Silverlon was a healing system comprised of pieces of material made with silver ions which, when wet, caused many of the worst nonhealing wounds to heal. He had used it successfully on several patients with nonhealing diabetic wounds. And it was FDA approved, which meant it had passed all tests for safety. I immediately contacted Bart Flick, MD, the physician who invented the product. I faxed Dr. Flick Tim’s medical history and called him an hour later. Dr. Flick was wonderful, agreeing to talk with Tim’s doctor. I called Tim’s neurosurgeon, only to find out that Tim was leaking yet again. “I don’t really want to do any more surgery,” he said, sounding almost sick. “Tim’s been through much too much already.” “Would you consider trying something a bit different?” I asked. “Yes,” he said. So I had him hold, while I dialed Dr. Flick’s number, hoping to place an instant three-way call. Thank goodness, Dr. Flick was there – and available. I patched the conference call together and the two doctors spoke, with me quietly crossing all fingers and toes. I heard Dr. Flick offer to supply all the Silverlon dressings for Tim free of charge. That night the samples were on Tim’s head. That was the last day he leaked. When I told the neurosurgeons I initially interviewed for this article about Silverlon, they all warned me that Tim’s success might well have been a fluke. In any case, it was, they advised me, “anecdotal.” But I don’t think it was a fluke, and it certainly is a wonderful “anecdote,” which I hope will be repeated many times over for other brain tumor patients in the months and years to come. I am therefore delighted to report that study protocols at various medical institutions nationwide are currently being developed for neurosurgical procedures. After many talks with Dr. Flick, I now understand why Silverlon works – as well as why some doctors are so skeptical. You see, the principle of Silverlon is very different from what doctors learn in medical school about how skin heals. Dr. Flick told me he thinks Silverlon helped to heal Tim’s head by changing the electrical environment, or electrostatic field, on the surface of the body (i.e., on the skin). He hypothesizes that this, in turn, affected the electrical characteristics of the dura, allowing it to heal. Dr. Flick has found, from his 20 years of research, that skin has a definite electrical potential. When there is a wound, the electrical potential of the affected area becomes abnormal. But if you can pull electrical potential from the surrounding, healthier skin, you can reestablish the normal electrical potential at the wound’s site. This causes the affected skin to heal more quickly. This is the power of conductive fabrics made from silver. So Silverlon cannot just be placed over the affected area of the skin. In order to harness the electrical potential of healthy skin, the material must be placed wet over the affected area – and it must also touch 2 cm beyond the affected area on all sides. Fascinating. And by the way, silver foils were routinely used as surgical dressings at the prestigious Johns Hopkins University Hospital before antibiotics were invented. I am now convinced that if we had known about Silverlon, it would have given Tim a much better chance of healing from the June 2001 surgery. In fact, had we found Silverlon earlier, I doubt Tim would have the cognitive deficits he now has. So I am writing this article for Tim, and for all the other brain tumor patients with irradiated skin who run the risk of leaking and getting infections from second, third, fourth, and more surgeries in the years to come. _______________________________________________________________________ Julia Schopick is the wife of Tim Fisher, a 12-year brain tumor survivor. Julia has become adept at what she refers to as “intuitive online research,” helping people to find out-of-the-box solutions to serious health problems. She enjoys teaching people how to do their own online research. Julia can be reached at angiojs@aol.com. To read more about Silverlon, visit www.silverlon.com. Reprinted with permission of the National Brain Tumor Foundation, 1.800.934.2873, www.braintumor.org Subsequently, the National Brain Tumor Foundation heard from a nurse on wound healing techniques: "I wanted to share that there are other brands of wound dressings with silver. The one noted in the article was Silverlon®, but there is also a product called Acticoat® (Smith and Nephew), one called Aquacel®Ag (ConvaTec), and another called SilvaSorbTM (Medline Industries). What I want to convey is that the properties of silver (changing the electric charge in a chronic wound and killing bacteria and fungus) are present in all of those brands. If patients or families ask for any of the available dressings, they are more likely to have success in getting one approved than if they ask for a specific brand, which may not be available in their particular locale." Remember we are NOT Doctors and have NO medical training. 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